Starless A Thranduil Fanfiction
by princesswithashotgun
Summary: Thrust into the perils of politics at a young age, Thranduil must help his father hold a young, struggling kingdom together, meanwhile trying to buck King Oropher's growing expectations and live a somewhat normal life. But life never goes according to plan, and Thranduil falls in love with an elleth he was never meant to notice.
1. Heir Apparent

**(Heroes—Zayde Wolf)**

"Valar above, Thranduil...it's a title, not a viper," Adar grumbled, rubbing his forehead just under his crown. We stood in the anteroom bickering in undertones while, on the other side of this closed door, the tightly-arranged benches of the gathering hall filled with an eager kingdom.

 _His_ eager kingdom. Not mine.

Adar shifted his clothes, never quite comfortable in the more decorative robes Naneth insisted he wear for these events. "We've worked too hard for our enemies to destroy us through an oversight."

"You aren't going to die—we aren't mortal. You'll always be King, and so this," —I ignore his grimace and gestured at the growing crowd— "is absolute nonsense."

Adar gave an exasperated huff. "Humor me, Thranduil. Just...don't make a scene."

I echoed his huff. We stared away from each other until the music started. The crowd's excited whispering hushed, anticipation clinging to each clear note.

The rustle of fabric announced Naneth's arrival. We turned to greet her, and giving us each a kind smile, she went to Adar and kissed him.

Eew.

Once they finished exchanging saliva, she turned to me and placed her long, callused hand on my cheek. "You look so distinguished."

I ducked away and crossed my arms. "That's no fault of mine." I would rather smell of wood and grass and animals, not soap.

With a melodious laugh, she said, "Nonetheless." The music lulled, and she took Adar's arm. Together, they pushed open the door and swept toward the front. Walking in perfect step, they waved at their beloved people, smiles evident when the sides of their faces became visible.

The perfect couple. Well not _perfect_ , no couple was actually perfect, but just perfect enough to make me look like a glorified mess.

Like a good son, I stepped out a few measures behind my parents. But instead of stepping in time to the music, like them, I tripped on my long robes and missed a beat. I had to scuffle to find my rhythm—stupid clothes. I squared my shoulders and raised my chin, not making eye contact with anyone, but sensing their judgmental stares.

They barely accepted Adar as King—they said he was too quiet, too calm, too easy to negotiate with. They sent Naneth disapproving glances when her back was turned, whispering how she should accept her husband's protection rather than training with the guards every morning.

But me, they didn't even mask their scorn. I was too wild, too unpredictable, too disinterested in politics.

For good enough reason.

I reached the front a moment after my parents and stood before them, my back to the audience. Naneth stood with her hands at her sides, wearing a graceful smile as real as the floor beneath my feet.

Adar stepped forward and addressed the gathered people. "Thank you all for coming. This has been a day Laegeth and I have been both excited for, and dreading. The day we call upon our only elfling to commit to the path we've chosen...and the eve of his becoming an ellon."

At least he didn't act as though he were bestowing some massive honor upon me.

Adar let his gaze rest on me, eyes warm, but ever a bit wary. "I know many of you doubt that Thranduil is suitable as an heir apparent. But let me assure you—not as a king, but as an ellon that knows his son—what Thranduil commits to do, he does wholeheartedly. Should anything happen to me, I would rest assured that I could not have left our people in better hands."

I swallowed hard. _That_ , I was not expecting.

He motioned forward someone from the front row—Arastor, who carried a white gold circlet inlaid with a sapphire between his battle-scarred hands. Adar gave him a grateful nod and took the circlet. "Thranduil. Do you, as prince, vow to take these people as your own, to protect and serve by your every action?"

I stared at his boots, heart beating faster than usual. Did I? _Should_ I? Personal dislike aside, could I fulfill Adar's expectations of me? Could I serve the Sindar and Silven elves in what capacity they required?

Adar raised one eyebrow a hairsbreadth—a silent question.

"I do," I blurted. Whether I could or not, I _would_. The weight of the commitment settled in the pit of my stomach, not apt to leave anytime soon by my reckoning.

His expression shifted, though only a little, enough. He was pleased with my choice—it shone through his eyes. "Then kneel, Thranduil Oropherion."

I sank to my knees, keeping my back straight and shoulders squared. As the cold circlet rested on my brow with surprising weight, I winced.

"Rise, Prince Thranduil of the Woodland Realm."

I stood, more an ellon than I had been when I knelt. At Adar's gesture, I turned to face the audience. Some began to cheer. Some gazed at me with sullen expressions. I found I could stand a little taller, and straightened to my full height, smoothing my face to mild boredom and glancing over the elves gathered.

That's when I saw her, hugging the stone wall near the front of the crowd, to my left. Perhaps twenty or twenty-five years younger than I, she watched me from behind a wave of dark hair, combed, but unbound.

Our eyes locked. Her one visible eyebrow lifted—her one visible blue eye widened. Then she ducked her head and darted toward the back, and out of sight.

I clenched my jaw and looked away, heat crawling up my neck. What a strange occurrence.

Adar patted my shoulder, startling me. "Come, the feast awaits us." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes—he studied me. Ever an observant hawk.

Naneth stepped forward and took his hand, eyes flicking between us. "Shall we go?"

I fell into step at his other side, and the three of us strode down the aisle, the perfect royal family. We walked down the wide corridor that led outside to the spacious courtyard. Wide squares of grass had been preserved at intervals in the brick floor, and from them grew large oak trees. From their far-reaching branches hung dozens of small lanterns, casting the twilit courtyard in a warm glow. Lines of tables overflowed with food, and benches all around awaited the party to begin.

Adar and Naneth immediately grabbed plates and began serving themselves. I trailed along behind them, sampling bits here and there, but not bothering to get a plate. I wasn't hungry—in fact I wanted nothing more than to seclude myself in the stables and bury this circlet under a mound of hay.

The three of us sat under a row of lanterns, Adar and Naneth laughing and eating off each other's plates. Elves from the party followed us, flooding around the food and then clustering into small groups to chatter about menial things. A few individuals moved between groups, and a handful more kept their own company, often sitting at the base of the trees. I just sat with my annoyingly in love parents, forced a polite smile when people felt obligated to compliment my new title, and otherwise stared at the cracks in the brick floor.

A couple of hours passed. What remained of the food had been stuffed onto the furthermost table to make room for the endless supply of wine—the endlessness of which the Silven seemed determined to test and the Sindar refused to be any less inebriated.

"Greetings, _Prince_ Thranduil." An elleth swaggered toward me, eyes glazed with drink. Dressed in the traditional, albeit suggestive leather garb of the Silven, she was pleasing to the eyes, but an assault on my intelligence. She managed to perch on the double handbreadth beside me without collapsing—and judging by the thick odor of wine clinging to her breath, that was quite an accomplishment. "My name is Lagorien."

I forced a tight smile and inched away. "Greetings."

Leaning in, as though I couldn't hear her, she all but yelled, "Nice night, yes?"

Over my opposite shoulder, Adar and Naneth were kissing. Not the short kind. The long kind that usually happened when Naneth started making noises about wanting more elflings. They would be no help whatsoever. I forced my smile back into place. "Yes, lovely."

Lagorien doubled over with laughter, putting her hand on my shoulder for support. It took every shred of my self-control not to shake off her hand. "You know," —she batted her eyelashes at me— "my ada is Sindar, and my nana is Silven. They believe it's important the bloodlines be mixed, for the security of our people in the future." She raised her hand—whether toward my hair or my ear, I didn't hope to learn.

Artfully dodging her fingers, I stood and spun to face her. "Might I find you another serving of wine?"

With a giggle, she bobbed her head and fiddled with her hair. "Such a kind prince."

I made my escape without a backward glance, heading for the tables. A couple of slightly-less drunk elves poured wine into goblets and shoved them at the nearest bystanders—myself included, as I passed. I shook my head and kept walking. As promised, I'd found the wine. If the broody elleth wanted more, she could bloody well get it herself.

Cutting through a few tight clusters of elves, just in case Lagorien might be following, I circled around toward the leftovers table. The musicians had planted themselves here, and a couple dozen elves danced to the reckless rhythm with utter abandon.

Most of the dancers, if not all, were Silven—wild creatures with cultural roots as far-reaching as a Mallorn's, and a love for the land just as deep. Adar often spoke of them, sometimes with amusement, sometimes with chagrin, but always with the utmost respect. Yet I'd never had much chance to observe them. Keeping my eyes on the mass of half-dressed, churning cluster of elves, I darted behind the nearest tree.

And promptly smacked into someone smaller than me. She grunted, staggered, and fell, the grapes in her hand bouncing across the stone floor. Her wide blue eyes locked onto mine in shock, cheeks rounded with an untimely mouthful

"I am so sorry," I stammered, mortified, and extended a hand.

She started to take my hand, hesitated, then let her fingers rest on mine. I closed my hand around hers and pulled her to her feet.

Clearing my throat of any unwanted awkwardness I said, "Forgive me...it was not my intention to knock you down."

Blinking twice, she began to hastily chew her mouthful, covering her pink lips with the hand I wasn't holding.

In a silent agreement, our hands sprang apart. I folded mine behind my back, and she smoothed her skirt as she continued to chew. Finally, she managed to swallow, and opened her mouth to reply. Then she hesitated, bit her lip, and sighed, eyes falling to the dancers.

I glanced at her. Dark hair framed her face, which the lantern light turned into a profile silhouette. The surface of her small lips showed the torn edges of a nervous habit. Her nose stood tall and elegant; her fine brow sloped upward to her hairline. Beautiful, but not in a way that made me ill at ease.

"Why are you staring at me, Prince Thranduil?" Though she spoke softly, her words commanded my attention.

I blinked and snapped my eyes back to the dancers. "Because you haven't answered me yet." I silently congratulated myself on a lie well told.

A pause. "T'was an honest mistake," she murmured, barely audible over the music and elves' raucous laughter. "I am neither offended nor injured."

"Prince Thraaaaaaaaanduiiiiiiiiil," a voice sang over the din of the party. Lagorien's voice, unless I were unfortunate enough to have _two_ stalkers.

The elleth at my side narrowed her eyes at me, a smirk playing along her lips. "Who is that?"

"Hide me." I looked her in the eye.

She tilted her head to the side, smirk widening. "Are you begging, Prince?"

I scowled. "Princes don't b—"

"Thraaaaaaaaaaaaanduuuuuiiiiiiiil," Lagorien screeched, her voice closer than before.

With a cringe, I nodded. "Yeah. Sure. I'm begging."

The elleth grinned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me toward the writhing mass of dancers. Despite my reluctance, I had to admit—it was a decent idea. Not quite there, she paused and started shimmying out of her dress.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

Underneath, she wore a simple Silven garb and a necklace pendant that glittered blue and red. Half the sun, half the moon—Arien and Tilion. She tossed her dress onto a pile of clothes to the side. "Hiding you." She gestured at my robes. "Take something off, quickly. You'll stand out, wearing all that."

I glanced at the other dancers, then pulled off my circlet and outer robe before I could convince myself otherwise. Underneath, I still wore my leggings and tunic. "Is this enough?"

She huffed and strode forward. Her small fingers hastily undid all the buttons on my tunic, then she went up on tiptoes to push it off my shoulders. "There. Now come on."

Hoping Adar and Naneth didn't choose to pay attention just yet, I followed her deep into the group of dancers. Immediately, the little elleth began to move with the urgency of someone in pain, and the grace of a lioness. I hesitantly followed her example.

Elves swirled around me, sweat glistening on their skin. The intensity of the music worked its way into my veins, my heart began to thrum with excitement, and soon I found my body moving in tandem. Nothing else mattered—bloodlines, birthright, titles. Only the music. Only the movement. Only the moment.

As the song reached a climax, ellith and ellyn began coupling. Before I could over think the scenario, the little elleth grabbed my hand. Strands of her dark hair clung to her damp face and neck, and perspiration trickled down my forehead. We twirled, sprang into the air, writhed to the rhythm, until the music concluded with a final, haunting chord.

We staggered to a halt and stood mere inches from each other, panting. The elleth's blue eyes flicked up to meet mine, coy, but curious.

I swallowed, but didn't look away.

"Oropherion?"

Cringing, I spun to face Adar. He stood with his arms crossed, taking in the scenario with a single arched eyebrow. Almost everyone else in the courtyard stared also, silent. Well...at least he wasn't shouting. "Yes, Adar?"

The elleth tugged her hand out of mine and hid behind me, cheeks flushed.

Adar cleared his throat. "I believe it's time for us to retire for the evening."

"Of course," I replied, the perfect son. I strode over to the pile of discarded clothes and gathered mine, casually popping the circlet onto my head. Robes draped over my arm, I walked over to him as though going about in this state of undress were perfectly normal.

Adar gave an almost-eye-roll and walked with me toward the castle entrance. Naneth joined us and gave me an almost-amused-smile. How much trouble I was in remained to be seen. My guess was very, _very_ much.

Standing beside an ellon wearing a disgruntled expression, Lagorien stared at me, openmouthed. I flashed her a confident smirk to mask my inward cringing. Giving a breathy sigh, her knees buckled, and she collapsed into the ellon's waiting arms.

As soon as we entered the corridor, I grimaced.

"Who were those ellith?" Adar hissed as we turned onto the staircase leading to the royal wing.

I started to push a hand through my hair, and nearly knocked off my circlet. Stupid thing. "One was apparently named Lagorien, who rather seriously wanted to be a princess. The other, I haven't the first clue, but she hid me from title huntress."

Adar scoffed. The sound bounced off the stone walls, mocking me. "That wasn't hiding, Thranduil, that was making a scene. The whole kingdom stopped to stare."

I swallowed. Hard.

Naneth laid a hand on my shoulder. "The scenario could, admittedly, have been more appropriate. But Oropher, he also made a statement—that we are not ashamed to be aligned with the Silven. I fear that releasing my maid could have caused certain Sindar tongues to wag more than usual...perhaps this will help to right that wrong."

We reached the upper floor, which consisted only of my parents' rooms and mine. Before I could slip behind my door and shut it, Adar caught my elbow. "Regardless, do avoid activities that involve undressing in public. If not for your dignity or ours, consider the frail constitutions of broody ellith. I fear you may be swarmed."

I nearly bit back my laugh. "As you wish, Adar."

He chuckled and herded Naneth into their rooms. "Bathe, Thranduil. You smell like a mortal." And he shut the door behind them.

As he requested, I took a lengthy bath. Once finished, I returned to my bedroom, scowling when I heard the ruckus coming from their room. Valar above, those two were like rabbits. I crawled into bed, pinned my head between two pillows, and resigned myself to a long, uncomfortable night.


	2. Ink Stains

**(At My Best—Machine Gun Kelly)**

A couple of weeks passed quietly, Adar occasionally asking me theoretic political questions, but making no other demands of my new title. That is, until I'd pestered Arastor into scheduling a long-awaited spar. It just so happened, that was the day the kingdom was to bring in their taxes. Naturally, Adar informed me I would be transcribing.

All. Day.

"Next," Adar called, his smile barely masking his own boredom. "Name?"

"Losdir, your Majesty." The ellon at the front of the line handed Adar a few small coins and a chicken. "I'm afraid this is all I have right now...if you'll give me some time, I'll do some extra work and bring in the rest."

Adar shook his head. "No, this is enough. Go in peace, provide for your family." To me, he said, "Thranduil..."

Please send me to the barn, _please_ send me to the barn—

He frowned. "Thranduil, inscribe one hen and five silver coins for Losdir." Turning in his seat, he handed the chicken to one of the guards. "Take this hen to the barn."

I scowled. That would've been a nice opportunity to make an escape.

"Next...name?" Adar motioned forward the next person in line—who turned out to be none other than Lagorien and her disgruntled companion.

"Tavordor," the ellon replied. "Here is the tax." He handed Adar a small leather coin pouch. As Adar opened it and began quietly counting, Tavordor added, "I brought my daughter to apologize to you—I am glad Prince Thranduil is here also." He faced me. "Her apology would be more appropriate for your ears."

I forced a smile bordering on a snarl. "By all means."

Lagorien stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back and head tilted in what she must've thought would appear a repentant stance. "My behavior at your coronation feast was wrong, Prince Thranduil...please forgive me?" She batted her eyelashes.

Eru save me. "Does fire forgive ice for stealing a bit of its glory?"

She squinted at me. "What is it that you speak of?"

"Does fire in all its radiance and strength, condescend to forgive ice for the reflection of light that it steals?" I clarified.

Adar closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. "What he means to say is yes, you are forgiven. Next?"

I stood, scraping my chair loudly across the floor. "No, in fact, that is not what I meant to say. I will not hold a grudge, Lagorien, but there is a reason the ice never remains near fire."

She cringed back from me, eyes wide. "Why?" She squeaked.

I braced my hands on the table and leaned down to her height. "Because, in the end, ice is nothing but frozen water. Whereas fire only grows more terrible, becomes more destructive, and burns hotter the closer you get to it." I dropped my voice. "The ice would _evaporate_ if it drew too close."

" _Thranduil._ " Adar stood, glaring at me. " _Control_ yourself." To Tavordor and Lagorien, he said, "Thank you—you may go."

They all but fled.

Exhaling, I clenched my fists and sat. Ignoring the next people in line and Adar's disgustingly-polite conversation with them, I lifted the quill pen and dipped it in the ink, then wrote _Tavordor—paid in full_. The tip shattered on the last letter, flecking ink across the page and my fingers. I grunted in utter frustration.

Adar glanced at me, annoyance written across his face. "What is it now?"

"I need a new pen," I muttered, holding my hand clear of my clothes as I stood.

"Wait." Adar glanced at me, then the two ellith before him.

One of which caught my gaze with a bright blue eye. Face half blocked by a curtain of dark hair, she gazed at me with the slightest of smiles.

Adar cleared his throat. "Thranduil, I would speak with you." I followed his lead into the narrow hall. "This is Faelel and her daughter, Rosseth," he whispered. "Faelel's husband is a guard, and while his wages usually cover the needs of the family, a debt recently paid has left them unable to pay their tax. What would you do in this situation?"

I hesitated. Being merciful, like with Losdir, was one thing. This was another. And yet...there had to be a good way of doing this. Standard punishment for missing a tax was a month of indentured service, but who would we indenture? The guard? That would be stupid. Faelel? That would be cruel. Certainly not the little elleth...Rosseth...

"Thranduil?"

"It's not a simple scenario," I replied, meeting his gaze. "We can't do nothing, but the typical punishment would only be counterproductive."

"I agree." The side of his mouth twitched upward into a half-smirk. "If it were simple, I wouldn't have asked your opinion."

Raising an eyebrow, I challenged, "So you aren't grooming me for the throne? You _actually_ care what I think?"

Adar chuckled. "I _am_ grooming you for the throne, and I do in fact care what you think. You're a grown ellon...besides breaking my quill pens." He gave me an almost-scolding expression.

I grimaced at the ink still sticking to my fingers. "I'm pretty sure that one was about to break anyway."

"That quill was brand new." He waved a hand. "Nonetheless, we need to reach a conclusion. I'm leaning toward giving them a one-month extension, with a small additional fee for being late."

"No." Glancing back into the room, at the elleth—Rosseth—I let my mind follow a rabbit trail, which led to a possible solution. "Naneth needs another maid, yes? Offer to have Rosseth live here as Naneth's maid in return for forgiving the tax...and send a small monthly stipend to Faelel, to get them back on their feet."

Adar pursed his lips in thought. "That's a bold move, Thranduil. She may not suit the roll, people may misinterpret your motives, and Faelel may not even agree. How will you address this?"

"Simple. If they don't like my idea, they can take yours."

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. "Come."

We walked back to the room, where Faelel stood with her hands clasped, and Rosseth stared at the floor, face mostly covered. Adar took his seat and smiled, folding his hands in his lap. "We've discussed the situation, and Thranduil has a proposition for you."

All eyes turned on me, and my mouth went dry. I hadn't thought he'd make me take credit for whatever failure my idea experienced. But I would take it standing. "My naneth, the Queen, has need of a maid. If Rosseth would come live with us to fill that role, we would consider the tax paid in full and send her monthly wages home to you."

Rosseth's visible eye flicked up and caught mine, then she looked at her naneth.

Faelel gazed at Rosseth for a long moment, and they exchanged various subtle expressions. Finally, she glanced between Adar and me and she nodded. "We will accept your generous offer...thank you."

I walked to my table and reached for the pen—and winced. "Adar, I need a new pen."

He shook his head. "Take Rosseth to your naneth, help her get settled in. I'll have someone that doesn't shatter my quills take over your station."

Resisting the urge to celebrate, I nodded. "This way."

She sent Faelel one lingering glance, then quietly stepped after me, fiddling with her Arien and Tilion necklace. I led her down the corridor, turned, and up another, in complete silence save our footsteps echoing off the stone. I didn't particularly know what to say to her, or if I even should. She made no attempt at conversation either, and so we ascended the staircase and reached the royal wing without having said a single word.

We reached Naneth and Adar's room, and I knocked with my clean hand. "Naneth? I've brought someone for you to meet."

Footsteps within the room approached the door, which opened a moment later. Naneth, dressed in a casual dress, with her hair in a loose braid, looked out. Her eyes first took in the mess staining my hand and robes, then flicked to Rosseth. A warm smile overcame her face. "Hello there."

Rosseth dipped into a deep curtsey, keeping her chin tucked.

I tucked my hands behind my back. "Naneth, this is Rosseth. She may be suitable as a maid for you."

Naneth smiled. "Wonderful, let's give it a try, shall we?" She beckoned Rosseth into her room.

Rosseth hesitantly went in, but I hung back. It felt inappropriate to follow her into a bedchamber.

"Your Highness!" A servant came rushing up the stairs, gasping for breath. He quickly bowed. "I am so sorry to interrupt Your Highness, but Lady Lavassel just went into labor, and she requested you come if you weren't presently engaged."

Covering her mouth, Naneth turned to Rosseth. "Lady Lavassel is my dearest friend—you'll excuse me while I help her through labor?"

"Of course, Your Highness," Rosseth replied in her quiet tone.

She placed a hand on Rosseth's cheek and gave her an affectionate smile. "Thank you, Rosseth. Perhaps you could help Thranduil clean off that ink while I'm gone, hmm?"

Rosseth blushed and nodded.

Naneth strode out the door, motioning for the servant to lead the way, leaving Rosseth and me alone in the royal wing.

I cleared my throat. "The bathing chambers are in here...there should be soap and whatnot." I led her deeper into the expansive chambers.

She followed, looking around with awestricken eyes. Same reaction for the bathing chambers. One might've thought wealth was foreign to her. In fact...I realized it probably was. Embarrassment washed over me, and I didn't know what to say.

Rosseth walked to the counter, where a stack of folded washcloths waited in the back corner for use. Snagging one, she opened the faucet and wetted the material. After shutting off the water flow, she squeezed out the excess and returned to me. "Give me your hand."

No one but my parents spoke to me with such straightforwardness. Amused, I held out my stained hand to her.

Her lithe fingers cradled my knuckles, and she began rubbing the ink off my skin. "The stains in your robes aren't apt to come out easily," she murmured, rotating my wrist to access my thumb.

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter much. Adar and Naneth stuff my wardrobe with these ridiculous clothes...I would much rather be dressed like you." The half-length leather trousers and loose tunic would be perfect for romping around in the woods.

Rosseth's eyes flicked up to me and narrowed, as though she suspected a lie—though I was being truthful. "If the garment matters so little to you, give it to me, and I will give it to someone who has need of it."

My mouth pulled into a smile, though I didn't mean to let it. "As you wish."

She gave a satisfied nod and looked back down at my hand, scrubbing a little harder at the stains in my skin. Her dark hair fell forward and brushed my wrist, and she pushed the locks behind her ear. "Sorry."

I shook my head. "Think nothing of it."

A pink hue bloomed across her cheeks as she inspected my hand, then she nodded and backed away, avoiding eye contact. "The stains can't be washed out any better, but they will fade soon."

"Thank you." Resisting a smile, I studied her. Why did she blush? I didn't understand ellith, but I found this one interesting. "If you'll follow me, I'll change and give you my robe for redistribution." I turned and walked out, trusting her to follow.

We went across the hall to my chambers, and I paused and blocked the doorway. "You may wait out here—you've seen enough of me undressing for the time being, yes?"

Rosseth's face went tomato red, and she froze several steps outside my room. "Forgive me...I don't wish to intrude on your privacy."

I smirked and shut the door, immediately pulling off my stained outer robe. After rolling it up into a wad, I went to my wardrobe and pulled out a different set of clothes—a tunic and trousers that I pinched while visiting the guards' practice arena. I quickly changed into them, snagged my soiled robe, and opened the door. "Here you are, kind elleth." I plopped the bundle in her arms.

Her eyes flicked over me, taking in my changed appearance. "Thank you, Prince Thranduil...I will find a suitable owner for this garment."

Footsteps came up the staircase, and we both spooked. A servant elleth I saw frequently reached the top and smiled at us. "Good day, Prince Thranduil, Rosseth."

I nodded. Rosseth gave her a hesitant smile in return.

She beckoned to Rosseth. "My name is Clorel. I am the organizer for the royal staff, and King Oropher told me to settle you into your new chambers. Today is for you to rest and learn your way around, but I suggest you focus on resting. The days start early for us."

Rosseth gave me a somewhat panicked glance, as though unsure if she could trust Clorel.

"Don't worry," I said, giving her a small smile. "Clorel will take care of you. Adar and Naneth trust her completely, and that says quite a lot."

Rosseth sighed and ducked her head, holding the robe close to her stomach as she went to Clorel. The servant gave her a curious glance in passing, but merely said, "Good day, Prince Thranduil."


End file.
